Trollope

By David Zurawik and David Zurawik,SUN TELEVISION CRITIC | April 1, 2002

The Way We Live Now is a big, fat, Masterpiece Theatre, English melodrama full of ladies and lords, young men on the make and old ones in decline, weekends in the country, romantic misunderstandings and so much social class stratification and confusion that it almost makes you dizzy. The six-hour, four-part miniseries starring David Suchet is also highly addictive. And, while it's based on the 1875 novel by Anthony Trollope and set in Victorian England, The Way We Live Now could not be more of the moment and American.

On Sunday, February 4, 2007, BILL HOWARD OZBORN, husband of Patricia Ozborn, father of Michelle Trollope, father-in- law of Tony Trollope, grandfather of Dylan, Winston and Ethan Trollope of San Antonio, brother of Diane Holman, nephew of Norma Martin and Billie Rogers of Ft. Worth. Also survived by numerous cousins, nieces, nephews, extended family and friends. A Memorial Service will be held at St. Marks Lutheran Church, 1900 St. Paul St. on Sunday, February 25th at 4pm. In lieu of flowers, donations may be made to the Baltimore Opera Company, 110 W. Mt. Royal Ave., Baltimore, MD 21201.

On Sunday, February 4, 2007, BILL HOWARD OZBORN, husband of Patricia Ozborn, father of Michelle Trollope, father-in- law of Tony Trollope, grandfather of Dylan, Winston and Ethan Trollope of San Antonio, brother of Diane Holman, nephew of Norma Martin and Billie Rogers of Ft. Worth. Also survived by numerous cousins, nieces, nephews, extended family and friends. A Memorial Service will be held at St. Marks Lutheran Church, 1900 St. Paul St. on Sunday, February 25th at 4pm. In lieu of flowers, donations may be made to the Baltimore Opera Company, 110 W. Mt. Royal Ave., Baltimore, MD 21201.

By Clare McHugh and By Clare McHugh,Special to the Sun | June 30, 2002

Girl From the South, by Joanna Trollope. Viking. 294 pages. $24.95. What is that Sixties-era slogan? "If you love someone, let them go?" Joanna Trollope, the popular British author, seems to have taken this and other soppy maxims -- such as "Love means never having to say you're sorry" -- as her guideposts in writing a thin, ultimately unsatisfying novel of modern romance. To an American reader in particular, much of the book rings false, centering as it does on a young woman from Charleston, S.C., who battles the pressures of her family and the conventions of Southern femininity to try and find her way in life.

THOUGHTS for the day:"Scratch a lover and find a foe."-- Dorothy ParkerAnd from Fred Allen: "A celebrity is a person who works hard all his life to become well known, then wears dark glasses to avoid being recognized."* * *A JUNE 22 letter to the editor of the Wall Street Journal, complaining about an editorial, Gayle L. Lawrence of West Windsor, N.J., wrote:"It is unbelievable to me that you have apparently espoused the notion, like much of our society, that breast-feeding in public should not be considered a perfectly natural, unoffensive act. The next time my baby gets hungry in a public setting and I choose to breast-feed, should I be subjected to taunts of 'Trollope!

By Terry Teachout and Terry Teachout,Special to The Sun | April 9, 1995

"The Commodore," by Patrick O'Brian. 282 pages. New York: W. W. Norton. $22.50For fans of Patrick O'Brian's Aubrey-Maturin sea stories, the business end of this review comes up front: "The Commodore," published last year in England, is now out in the United States. Two or three nagging questions are finally answered in "The Commodore" (including the identity of the limping traitor), and a brand-new loose end is left dangling, "Perils of Pauline"-style, in the very last line. Buy it at once.

Whenever you begin to feel really sorry for yourself, you migh consider the case of Frances Trollope.Mrs. Trollope overcame a fiscally disastrous and disappearing husband, turned herself into an author, and supported her brood by writing 114 books.The feat is particularly remarkable in view of the restrictions of her century -- the 19th -- and her circumstances -- she was often in shocking financial straits.Nevertheless, she managed to bring up the novelist, Anthony, as prolific as his Mama in chronicling human foibles, and author of the beloved Barchester-Palliser novels.

The novel as a form matured in England. Four intriguing June offerings reveal that the craft continues to thrive on those shores. Most haunting is "The Chimney Sweeper's Boy" by Ruth Rendell, writing as Barbara Vine (Harmony Books, 343 pages, $24).Rendell is known for her mysteries, for genre fiction. "The Chimney Sweeper's Boy," however, is a profound family chronicle, a psychological thriller centering on a father, celebrated novelist Gerald Candless, and the daughters toward whom he is so seductive that neither enters adulthood whole.

By Laura Demanski and Laura Demanski,Special to the Sun | April 25, 1999

Red hot across the pond (and very warm over here), Joanna Trollope's novels are becoming a staple for English readers and Anglophiles everywhere. They top best seller lists, get adapted for "Masterpiece Theatre," and handily invoke the ghosts of her Victorian ancestor Anthony Trollope and other able 19th-century chroniclers of domestic manners. The younger Trollope's voice beckons the reader with all the easy affability, common wisdom and topicality of a smarter-than-average TV Movie of the Week.

Terry Teachout is the music critic of Commentary and a contributor to Time magazine.He also writes about the arts for the New York Times, the Wall Street Journal, National Review and other publications. He is the author of three books and is currently writing "H. L. Mencken: A Life."In the interest of maximum humiliation (a good thing for critics to experience regularly), I shall lead with my chin and confess shamefacedly that I have never read "Bleak House." Nor am I planning to do anything about it, other than squirm with embarrassment: I know Charles Dickens is a great writer and "Bleak House" is among his very greatest novels, but his burbling loquacity irritates me so much that I find it impossible to read him for pleasure, and I'm too old to read long novels for any other reason.

By David Zurawik and David Zurawik,SUN TELEVISION CRITIC | April 1, 2002

The Way We Live Now is a big, fat, Masterpiece Theatre, English melodrama full of ladies and lords, young men on the make and old ones in decline, weekends in the country, romantic misunderstandings and so much social class stratification and confusion that it almost makes you dizzy. The six-hour, four-part miniseries starring David Suchet is also highly addictive. And, while it's based on the 1875 novel by Anthony Trollope and set in Victorian England, The Way We Live Now could not be more of the moment and American.

By Clare McHugh and By Clare McHugh,Special to the Sun | July 22, 2001

Next of Kin, by Joanna Trollope, Viking. 291 pages. $23.95. Imagine going to a psychiatrist who spouts platitudes. You'd be sitting there revealing your deepest feelings: your anger at your brother for committing suicide, or your jealousy and rage when your widowed father takes up with a friend of yours, a woman your own age. But the doctor, having listened to the details, responds using only the tritest of sentiments such as: "You've still got to...

"Marrying the Mistress," by Joanna Trollope. Viking. 293 pages. $23.95. Joanna Trollope's ninth novel concerns what happens when a 62-year-old British judge and a 31-year-old woman decide to get married. They have carried on their affair in secret for several years and now finally decided to take the plunge. This couple is thoroughly in love; she's never clicked with a man like she does with him, and he has been locked in an unhappy marriage for more than 30 years. Merrion, the "mistress," is frankly in search of a lost father, but this doesn't diminish her love for Guy or the fact that she is a very substantial young woman with a career in law. Guy's long-time wife Laura is the villain in the story.

Terry Teachout is the music critic of Commentary and a contributor to Time magazine.He also writes about the arts for the New York Times, the Wall Street Journal, National Review and other publications. He is the author of three books and is currently writing "H. L. Mencken: A Life."In the interest of maximum humiliation (a good thing for critics to experience regularly), I shall lead with my chin and confess shamefacedly that I have never read "Bleak House." Nor am I planning to do anything about it, other than squirm with embarrassment: I know Charles Dickens is a great writer and "Bleak House" is among his very greatest novels, but his burbling loquacity irritates me so much that I find it impossible to read him for pleasure, and I'm too old to read long novels for any other reason.

By Laura Demanski and Laura Demanski,Special to the Sun | April 25, 1999

Red hot across the pond (and very warm over here), Joanna Trollope's novels are becoming a staple for English readers and Anglophiles everywhere. They top best seller lists, get adapted for "Masterpiece Theatre," and handily invoke the ghosts of her Victorian ancestor Anthony Trollope and other able 19th-century chroniclers of domestic manners. The younger Trollope's voice beckons the reader with all the easy affability, common wisdom and topicality of a smarter-than-average TV Movie of the Week.

The novel as a form matured in England. Four intriguing June offerings reveal that the craft continues to thrive on those shores. Most haunting is "The Chimney Sweeper's Boy" by Ruth Rendell, writing as Barbara Vine (Harmony Books, 343 pages, $24).Rendell is known for her mysteries, for genre fiction. "The Chimney Sweeper's Boy," however, is a profound family chronicle, a psychological thriller centering on a father, celebrated novelist Gerald Candless, and the daughters toward whom he is so seductive that neither enters adulthood whole.

I have this fantasy: In the back of my house is a flagstone patio, deeply shaded but enclosed by a sunny, aromatic garden where small songbirds quietly fill in the hushed background.My patio has deep, soft chairs; the table where I have breakfast, lunch and dinner is low and long, ample enough for a handful of guests but cozy enough for two. I spend my summer here, content, peaceful -- reading, sipping sweet, minted iced tea, reading some more. Someone else answers the phones, tends the kids; I read and sit and read, uninterrupted.

By Clare McHugh and By Clare McHugh,Special to the Sun | June 30, 2002

Girl From the South, by Joanna Trollope. Viking. 294 pages. $24.95. What is that Sixties-era slogan? "If you love someone, let them go?" Joanna Trollope, the popular British author, seems to have taken this and other soppy maxims -- such as "Love means never having to say you're sorry" -- as her guideposts in writing a thin, ultimately unsatisfying novel of modern romance. To an American reader in particular, much of the book rings false, centering as it does on a young woman from Charleston, S.C., who battles the pressures of her family and the conventions of Southern femininity to try and find her way in life.

I have this fantasy: In the back of my house is a flagstone patio, deeply shaded but enclosed by a sunny, aromatic garden where small songbirds quietly fill in the hushed background.My patio has deep, soft chairs; the table where I have breakfast, lunch and dinner is low and long, ample enough for a handful of guests but cozy enough for two. I spend my summer here, content, peaceful -- reading, sipping sweet, minted iced tea, reading some more. Someone else answers the phones, tends the kids; I read and sit and read, uninterrupted.

By Terry Teachout and Terry Teachout,Special to The Sun | April 9, 1995

"The Commodore," by Patrick O'Brian. 282 pages. New York: W. W. Norton. $22.50For fans of Patrick O'Brian's Aubrey-Maturin sea stories, the business end of this review comes up front: "The Commodore," published last year in England, is now out in the United States. Two or three nagging questions are finally answered in "The Commodore" (including the identity of the limping traitor), and a brand-new loose end is left dangling, "Perils of Pauline"-style, in the very last line. Buy it at once.